


i will hold you as you have held me in your heart

by MagicaLyss



Series: A Sky Full of Stars {Irondad Febuwhump} [8]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Ned Leeds Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Break, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poor Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22902265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaLyss/pseuds/MagicaLyss
Summary: Febuwhump Day 15 & 16 – Hearing Loss & Brain DamageSeventy-eight hours.Seventy-eight fucking hours and Tony thinks he’s going to fall apart at the seams if he has to keep going like this.Not because he’s hurt, no, Tony’s barely got a scratch since they’ve gotten here (Seventy-eight hours ago) and Ned’s doing just fine as well, eyes wide and red-rimmed, nose flushed and hands shaking in their restraints, but fine, just another wrong place, wrong time kind of situation for the poor kid.Tony and Ned are fine.Peter on the other hand?His kid, god his fucking kid, looks awful. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, slide over the room unseeingly, hands clenched around the arms of his chair like Tony’s are. They realized yesterday, when he was brought back, that Peter couldn’t hear anything they said, couldn’t see them. It was like they’d ripped away his senses.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: A Sky Full of Stars {Irondad Febuwhump} [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619647
Comments: 14
Kudos: 253





	i will hold you as you have held me in your heart

Seventy-eight hours.  
  


Seventy-eight fucking hours and Tony thinks he’s going to fall apart at the seams if he has to keep going like this.  
  


Not because he’s hurt, no, Tony’s barely got a scratch since they’ve gotten here (Seventy-eight hours ago) and Ned’s doing just fine as well, eyes wide and red-rimmed, nose flushed and hands shaking in their restraints, but _fine_ , just another wrong place, wrong time kind of situation for the poor kid.  
  


Tony and Ned are fine.  
  


Peter on the other hand?  
  


“Ned, kid, I need you to breathe, okay? Panicking isn’t going to do anyone any good,” Tony says. He knows he sounds harsh, eyebrows lifted and hands clenched around the arms of the chair, voice coming out rough and angry. He takes a deep breath. “I know this is scary, but Peter’s going to be alright.”  
  


Tony’s not sure if he’s lying or not, all he knows is that he’s going to do all he can, even if all he can do is take care of Ned.  
  


“What did they do to him?” Ned asks, voice so quiet in the small room.  
  


Tony looks over at Peter and his heart sinks.  
  


His kid, _god his fucking kid_ , looks awful. His eyes, glazed and unfocused, slide over the room unseeingly, hands clenched around the arms of his chair like Tony’s are. They realized yesterday, when he was brought back, that Peter couldn’t hear anything they said, couldn’t see them. It was like they’d ripped away his senses.  
  


And worse?  
  


Rows of stitches along his forehead, running their way into his hairline. Like they’d cut into his brain to remove those senses.  
  


It makes Tony gag at the thought, flashes of his own forced surgeries flickering through his vision, making the cell they’re in become the cave from Afghanistan, before he swallows it down, pushing it away.  
  


“Don’t think about it,” Tony tells Ned who’s starting to look a little green. “It’s not going to help to think about it.”  
  


“What _is_ going to help?”  
  


The silence that follows says it all.  
  


There’s _nothing_ they can do. Absolutely nothing.  
  


They haven’t even seen the people who took them from the schoolyard, they must be smart, Tony’s willing to give up pretty much anything to get Peter out of here. Even if he did…  
  


“Rhodey’s going to find us,” Tony says, trying to force certainty and confidence into his voice. “It won’t be long before we’re rescued.”  
  


Ned doesn’t seem to believe him, eyes wary and fingers tightening into fists. But Tony doesn’t even believe himself, he doesn’t know for sure if they will be saved. There’s no way to be sure.  
  


And their best asset, their best way to escape, is currently probably inches away from dying, blind and deaf, with what Tony guesses is a lot of brain damage.  
  


All he has to hope is that Helen and Bruce can fix his kid back up to what he used to be. He’s sure they could work around it if it was permanent, it would be hard, but they could still do it. But for Peter’s sake… It’s not fair.  
  


Blood drips from the stitches on Peter’s head, smearing down the side of his face. Tony wants nothing more than to wipe it away, especially as Peter flinches away from it, eyes squeezing shut and small whimpers escaping his throat.  
  


Tony’s stomach churns, wincing at the way Peter can’t seem to calm himself down, glazed unseeing eyes bouncing left and right for help he can’t see.  
  


“Tony!” Peter cries out, voice breaking as tears slide down his face with the blood. “Mister Stark! Please- I- I- _Please_! Help!”  
  


“Pete, kiddo, I’m right here. Please, I’m here, buddy. I’m right here,” Tony says, hands trembling, wishing more than anything that he could soothe his kid’s panic.  
  


But nothing helps as Peter cries, whining and thrashing in his restraints, stitches pulling a little against his skin, making more blood drip down his pale skin.  
  


Ned sobs, head falling forward as he tugs at his ropes, rubbing his skin raw with his effort. “Tony, he- he needs help. He needs- Please. I can’t-”  
  


Ned’s looking to him for help. To _Tony_. To help him. And there’s nothing he can do to get to Peter, nothing he can do to make any of this better.  
  


Peter tugs harder at his restraints, wrists dripping blood down to his elbows and over the floor, mixing with the blood falling from his forehead and scalp, but the restraints won’t give, won’t let him escape.  
  


“C’mon, Peter, please, buddy,” Tony tries again, voice shaking. “You’re hurting yourself, you have to calm down. I’m here, buddy. I’m here.”  
  


The familiar gas starts pumping it’s way into the room by the small vents along the ceiling, mostly colorless but distinctive in the sickly sweet smell that suddenly overtakes them.  
  


“They’re gonna- Mister Stark, they’re gonna take him again,” Ned cries out, eyes wildly focusing on Tony. “You can’t let them- You can’t let them take him again.”  
  


But there’s nothing Tony can do.  
  


Seventy-eight hours and counting.  
  


Tony isn’t sure how long Peter will last.  
  


  
*  
  
  
When they come to, for what feels like the thousandth time, Peter is no longer across from Tony like he always is when they wake up. The space is entirely empty where Peter once was except for the blood staining the floor.  
  


Ned, beside him, is still passed out, chin against his chest in an uncomfortable position.  
  


According to the clock that ticks obnoxiously in the corner of the room, it’s been another four hours since they passed out.  
  


Eighty-two hours.  
  


There’s a crash that echoes through the room from somewhere outside their cell that makes Tony’s head pound with the headache that comes along with whatever drug they’ve pumped full of.  
  


Ned jerks awake, wide eyes immediately finding Tony’s.  
  


“Where’s Peter? Do you know what’s happening? What was that? Do you think that was Mister Rhodey like you said? Is Peter okay? We were supposed to be at least two thirds of the way through our movie playlist we created by now, getting kidnapped was _not_ part of our plan. Well, we were planning on watching-”  
  


There’s another crash followed by gunshots, ringing through the air, cutting off Ned’s anxious rambling.  
  


Tony pulls at his ropes, craning his neck to try to see what’s happening and then-  
  


“Tony!”  
  


It’s not the desperate cry like Tony expected, it’s not Peter at all. Instead, it’s the familiar voice of Rhodey, muffled and robotic through the suit.  
  


“In here!” Tony calls out, voice cracking with disuse. Ned immediately echoes his words, slightly more high-pitched, more watery, more fearful.  
  


And then Rhodey’s there at the cell door, faceplate snapping open to reveal tired, worried eyes and a weary smile.  
  


But before he can get a word out, Tony says, practically begging, “You gotta find Peter. You have to find my kid. Please, honeybear. I need- I need-”  
  


“There’s no other heat signatures in the building, Tony. It was just you guys and the few people upstairs. If he was here with you, he’s not now.”  
  


Rhodey snaps open the cell door, immediately coming to get them, even as Tony starts to cry, eyes burning and throat aching, he didn’t even think he _could_ cry after the eighty-two hours without food or water.  
  


“He runs cold,” Ned offers. “He’s always freezing cold, especially here, his fingers were literally blue when we saw him last. Maybe you didn’t pick it up on your heat signatures.”  
  


“He’s still warm enough, kid, sorry. If it makes you feel any better though, there was no sign of him anywhere here.”  
  


Tony squeezes his fists, speaking through his clenched jaw. “How is that _better_?”  
  


Rhodey looks at him for a moment as he undoes Ned’s ropes with a confused expression. “If he’s not here, no _body_ , that means there’s a good chance he’s out there.”  
  


An image flashes through his mind, conjuring up what he thought was only nightmare material. Peter stumbling alone, blind, deaf, injured, cold, _scared_ through a forest. No way to find help.  
  


“We gotta- Rhodey, he’s hurt. He’s- He’s hurt real bad, Rhodey. We have to find him. We have to-”  
  


Rhodey touches his shoulder, finally freeing Ned and working on Tony’s restraints. “And we will. We’ll find him, I promise. He couldn’t have gotten far.”  
  


Despite everything, despite starving and being so dehydrated that his vision blurs the moment he stands up, mouth dry and throat raw, and despite feeling so fucking tired, there’s adrenaline that thrums through his veins.  
  


He’s going to find his kid if it’s the last thing he does.  
  


Ned, the poor kid, is just as determined to get to his best friend, so Rhodey, reluctantly, puts a wrist on both of them and they all head off in different directions into the surrounding forestry.  
  


It’s not smart, but they just want Peter to be okay. They just want to find the kid.

  
  
It feels like hours, stumbling around in the dark, calling out Peter’s name despite knowing he won’t be able to hear it. He stomps his feet, hoping the ground vibrations will be felt if his kid is close enough. When he sees it.  
  


A little red barn at the bottom of the ditch he reaches. It’s small and shabby, roof caving in and moss crawling up the support beams. But it’s a barn. And if Peter’s spidey-sense means anything, it’ll take him to the barn. Out of danger. A place to lie down and rest out of sight.  
  


He hurries down, bare feet sliding over branches and through thick grass, nearly tripping his way down the hill.  
  


Inside the barn is darker than the forest was, cold and chilly and haunting.  
  


He stops his feet against the ground as soon as he makes it to the wooden flooring and it echoes through the boards.  
  


Almost instantly, there’s movement out of the corner of his eye. “Please don’t- don’t hurt me. Please, please, I can’t- I can’t see please. I just want Tony. I want Tony, please, I can’t-”  
  


Tony hurries over, feet slipping over the mossy hardwood until he can land quietly on his knees beside the boy, curled up in a fetal position on the ground, hands tucked around his head.  
  


“Peter?” he says, despite knowing it won’t mean anything.  
  


He reaches out slowly until he’s able to touch Peter’s cheek, gently stroking a finger under his eyes, brushing away the tears.  
  


Peter tenses up under the hand for a second before he relaxes entirely. “Mister Stark?”  
  


“It’s me, buddy, I’m here. I’ve got you,” Tony reassures, maybe more for himself than for the kid.  
  


“I can’t- I can’t see, Mis’er S’ark. I can’t- I can’t-” Peter takes a deep, shaking breath. “One tap for yes and two for no?”  
  


Tony’s taps once on the boy’s cheek, watching a little smile touch his face, shoulders relaxing immediately.  
  


“Can we go home?” At Tony’s single tap, Peter lets out a breathy sob of relief. “Am I- Am I going to be okay?”  
  


There’s a long moment where Tony hesitates because he just doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if Helen and Bruce can work miracles. He doesn’t know if Peter’s healing can take care of the majority of the damage.  
  


These things are delicate parts of the human body. The brain, the eyes, the ears. Tony doesn’t know.  
  


But he still taps once on Peter’s cheek, knowing he needs to provide whatever comfort he can.  
  


This is _his_ kid.  
  


His _child.  
  
_

Just a mere sixteen-years-old, the amount of trauma stacked on his shoulders is unfair, it’s the kind of pain that never fades away, it’s the kind of thing that Tony wants to take the brunt of, lift it onto his own shoulders to give his kid some relief.  
  


But there’s nothing he can do.  
  


There’s nothing to be done but draw his kid into a warm hug and pray to Thor that Helen and Bruce can fix this.  
  


There’s nothing he can do but hold his kid close, pepper kisses along his forehead where the stitches lie haphazardly across his skin, and _hope_ like hope is enough to fix this awful nightmare.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://lyssismagical.tumblr.com/)


End file.
